Midnight Moon
by Diggory Black
Summary: A spin off of my own "Forever Night", between chapters 22 and 24. A small Garrett love story between two bigger ones. My Children of the Moon indulgence. Recommend reading "Forever Night" through chapter 22 before starting this story.
1. PREFACE

PREFACE

**PREFACE**

Sabine's face was full of tears.

"Garrett!" she whispered harshly. "There is no other way!"

Everything that I had done for her, everything that we had tried, was in vain. I had wanted to help her, tried in every way I could. But I should have seen the end coming. It was inexorable, unstoppable.

She was damned before she'd ever met me.


	2. 1 INNOCENCE

Author's Note #1: Midnight Moon was originally supposed to be a couple chapters in my other Garrett story, Forever Night

_Author's Note #1: Midnight Moon was originally supposed to be a couple chapters in my other Garrett story, Forever Night. But I became absolutely fascinated by the possibilities of the Children of the Moon, and I could no longer make the story work as part of the whole. So I spun it off. It takes place between Chapters 22 (Foolhardy 1948) and 24 (Villain 1954) of Forever Night, and does not follow that story's non-linear style. I would highly recommend that a new reader first read that story up through Chapter 22 before starting this story, in order to understand the Garrett character that I created, his motivations, and his background. This story is really for me as a writer and for those that enjoy Forever Night, and it doesn't "stand alone". Thank you to those of you who have joined this story who were already reading Forever Night, and I apologize for any confusion. Starting this story was a spur of the moment decision. I love my Forever Night readers._

_Author's Note # 2: Dialogue that is italicized but not part of a memory is translated from another language. No way was I translating everything with the deeply flawed Altavista, and then having to explain the translations as part of the text. I'm too lazy for that. _

**1. INNOCENCE**

_The beast was horrible. It was as Danny had described. No hair, just a naked and deformed body, human flesh, stretched and distorted over the skeleton of a strange dog. It was thin and yet muscular at once, for all of the exposed flesh was muscle and tendons. The face of it was like nothing I had ever seen, as if it was a human whose jaw had grown too large, whose whole face contorted, the flesh stretched over elongated bone. The only hair on the beast was on it head, a long mane of brown hair, and between its legs, black instead of brown. Its torso was too long, more than half the length of its body. The only area where the flesh was not stretched along bone or muscle was at the chest, where the skin was not fully extended over bone. _

_Danny screamed, but the beast turned that scream into a more horrible gurgling sound as it ripped the flesh from his neck. _

The scent, as before, was strange to my vampire sense. It was both the scent of a dog and the scent of a human. The human scent was rather appealing, except that it was very hard to separate from the dog's scent. Still, far better than how it had smelled as a wolf.

The creature was human now, a woman, and I doubted it, or she, could get very far. But was it really human? Of that I was not so sure. The semantics of a Child of the Moon were beyond me. I increased my velocity, wanting simply to finish this.

Danny's death stung deeply, to my very core. I had killed so much, lost so much, in my past, but this loss was distinctively bitter from the rest. He had trusted me so implicitly. Had been so pleasant, open, and honest from the moment I'd met him. He may have been a vampire, but the best word I could use to describe Danny was innocent. And I had taken advantage.

He was young and gullible, he had seen nothing of the world but his own little corner of it. I had told him tales, true tales, which made what I did seem fun and exciting, when in reality my past was filled with pain and suffering. Jonathan had accused me of being a suicidal vampire. I longed for death, certainly, but what I truly loved was the sense of danger, to feel the rush and the excitement of the possibility that I might actually be killed. No, I never intended to die by what I did, but I didn't intend to survive, either. I just wanted to feel something. And that was what I should have told Danny from the outset.

My hunt now was not for the danger, not for the rush. This was a hunt for vengeance. Vengeance and I were old friends, and we'd known each other for years, but I had not felt the emotion, the longing, inside of me for quite a long time. Vengeance used to be a natural thing for me, but it felt unfamiliar. It was not as comfortable a feeling as it once was. I had a strange sense of unease.

The Child of the Moon moved more quickly than I'd expected. I'd assumed I would catch it well before it could reach Warsaw, but soon I was upon the capital. And I pulled up in shock.

What had _happened _here? I had, of course, heard of the many German atrocities in the East during my time in the army, but I had overheard little since we'd come to Poland, for I did not know the language. This was not a city. Barely a single building stood as far as the eye could see, and my eyes saw very far. Everywhere I looked, buildings were collapsed upon themselves, debris and rubble lay unmoved in the streets. I was aware of how hard-hit some of these places had been, but still, I expected to see a city, not a ruins. I knew not whether the Russians or the Germans had done this, but I could not imagine how anyone could actually live in this place.

And, truly I did not see very many people, so I supposed I was correct in that assessment. But I was not there to decry the atrocities that humans committed upon themselves. I had a mission. I tracked the Child into the city, staying to the shadows of the building and pulling the collar of my jacket up so that it covered much of my face. If I moved fast enough, I hoped no one would notice the occasional glint of sun off of my skin.

It had moved deep into the eastern portion of the city, and I was almost to the Vistula, when the sent suddenly turned from its westerly direction towards the north. It turned again, into a cramped alleyway filled with more debris, refuse, and pieces of the adjacent buildings, and I saw it.

No, I saw…her.

She was huddled in a corner, curled into a ball, and she was completely naked. How had she come this far into the city without causing an uproar? Her hair was matted on her head, and she clutched her face in her hands. Her body was covered in dirt and filth from head to toe.

She looked up as I approached. That was surprise. Humans never heard me until I was upon them, even when I wasn't trying to be quiet. Tears streaked the dirt on her cheeks, and her eyes were wide as they beheld me. And those eyes were green. Strikingly, wonderfully, green.

My anger about what the beast had done to Danny, my desire for vengeance, was gone. There was no malice in her eyes, no sign of the black eyed monster I'd encountered only an hour before. Only fear, and confusion, and pain.

The wound on her shoulder was still open and fresh, and I saw the bruises covering her body as well. Time to try out my Polish.

"Są wy w bólu?" I asked. Was she in pain? It appeared that she was. But her face only became more confused.

"Są wy Polerujecie?" She still seemed confused. So she was not Polish. Time to try Russian. Good, I knew a little more Russian than Polish.

"Вы понимаете русский язык?" She shook her head. She seemed to have some understanding of what I was trying to convey.

"Do you speak English?" Now that would be convenient. She shook her head again, but this time she spoke.

"My…English…bad. Je parle français." Ah, French, I knew the language well.

"Êtes-vous en douleur ?" I asked again.

_"It hurts…all over,"_ she replied. _"I don't know what happened to me."_

_"Take my jacket,"_ I said, and, glancing upward to be sure that the sun would not find its way into the alley, I unbuttoned it quickly and stepped toward her. She cringed away from me.

How strange that only a moment ago I had turned the corner of this alley to kill a monster, and now I was trying to help a human. But she had to be cold. Though I could not feel it, I knew that April in Warsaw was a brutal month. Although she did not look cold, just scared. I held the jacket out to her, standing a few feet away. When she did not move towards me, I tossed it to her feet.

She stared at it, and tentatively reached for it, pulling it around herself while keeping her knees tight to her chest.

_"My name is Garrett," _I tried, hoping that this knowledge might put her at ease. It did not. She was still frightened.

_"I'm not going to hurt you,"_ I said, but she still looked fearful. Was it my appearance? I certainly did not find her dog-human scent appealing, so I doubted I looked hungry. Perhaps my strange features. Or the lilting, sometimes menacing voice. I tried to remember interacting with humans as a soldier, how I'd spoken and held myself during the war.

_"What happened to you?"_ I asked. The question seemed natural, and though I already knew the answer, I hoped that it would help her let down her guard.

_"I woke up…like this, and I ran. Something smelled bad, and I had to get away."_ sniffed the coat, the air around her, and then she was trying to get away from me, lurching deeper into the alley. So it was the smell. Neither of us appealed to the other.

_"Stop! Please, I'm trying to help!"_ But she was on her feet, moving backward, trying to get the coat off of herself. I caught flashes of her body. She was quite…lovely, even covered in dirt. She had the coat partially removed when her heal hit a large piece of stone, and she pitched backwards, her skull cracking hard against another piece of debris. I smelled the blood flowing from the wound, but again, it held very little appeal. Her body was not moving.

I scooped her into my arms without thinking, and then I was moving, too fast for the human eye to see. But where would I find a hospital in a place so devastated? I did the only thing that I could do. I opened my senses, and searched for blood. And then I was moving again.

It was an infirmary, for Russian soldiers from the look of it. There was no roof, only cloth covering the patients from the elements. But a tent stood in front with a cross on it, and I entered quickly. I passed the two Russian soldiers standing guard without a noise, flitted past them and inside. I saw a patch with a cross on it on the uniform of a man inside, huddled against the cold, crouched over an injured body. I sucked in a breath through my mouth, and though I felt the burning of the blood, the desire, I could not smell it. I was next to the man in less than a second, and he started. I supposed to him I'd appeared from nowhere.

"Please help her!" I rasped, trying to stretch my air supply. He looked at me quizzically, and I repeated my request in Russian. His eyes were still shocked, so I placed her on one of the empty cots. He looked me over, saw my American uniform, my strange appearance, and shouted in Russian, The guards were through the door immediately, and I simply disappeared.

XXX

_My teeth connected with its shoulder, ripping flesh from its body, as I threw everything I had the monster. I could only hope that the force of my tackle could drive it away from Danny._

_The beast released him and struck me, its claws dug into the flesh of my shoulder as it tossed me away. I tasted its flesh in my mouth, its blood. The taste was disgusting. I spat and turned toward it, only to find that the beast was upon me._

The medic walked out of the tent in front and into the street beside the infirmary. The city was completely dark in the night, lit only by fire, candles, and kerosene. I had watched the building all day, and the medic had come out at regular intervals to enjoy a cigarette, but this was the first time he'd left at night. I'd listened to the building, heard him working on the girl, the werewolf, and others, but I had not heard her speak again. Only moans and occasional cries, distinctive from the men in the infirmary.

He was in the process of lighting his cigarette, the light up to his face, when I stepped forward and spoke.

_"How is she?"_ I said in Russian.

The medic dropped the lighter and the cigarette and lurched away from me, his mouth opening to scream. I put my hand over it quickly, and held him firmly.

I waited for him to calm himself, and then released him. His was breathing hard.

_"She will be fine,"_ he whispered.

_"Tell me everything."_ It was not a request.

_"There is something…strange about her. Almost all of her wounds have healed. When you brought her in, she was bruised all over, and she had the cut to her shoulder and the blow to the head. Only the wound to her shoulder remains. I sutured that. But her other injuries…it's as if they were never there. If I hadn't seen them myself, I would think she was perfectly healthy but for her shoulder."_

I waited. There was more.

_"She is strong. During one bout of pain, she threw one of the guards into the wall, nearly five meters. And her skin is tough. I broke a dozen needles when I stitched her up."_ How very interesting.

_"When does she leave?" _

_"In the morning. We were going to transfer her to a regular hospital, but when her wounds healed, there was no need."_

_"Give her whatever you can provide. Clothes, food. She has nothing and no one_." I lifted the cigarette to his mouth, lit it for him, and then I faded into the shadows again. I needed a change of clothes. This GI uniform would get me in trouble.

Why was I so concerned for this girl, this girl who had it in her to become a monster, a monster that had killed my best friend? Was it the eyes? They were so much like Susan's. I remembered again, when she'd first looked up at me, and I saw those eyes, and I had an overwhelming sense that I needed to protect her. Protect a human that became a deadly beast. What was I thinking?

And yet, I traded my uniform for peasant clothes, and waited through the night, listening to her sleep in the distance. I watched her leave the hospital, in tattered, ill fitting clothes, clothes meant for a man, and was strangely glad that she still wore the jacket I had given her. And I wanted very much to talk to her again.

I remembered Danny's last words. The pain on his face, the wound at his neck. This beast had killed the only friend I had left.

_"Garr..," Danny rasped, and I was by his side._

_"Nnnnn…worth…it…"_

I should have killed this thing already. But it was not a thing anymore. It was a girl. A scared and vulnerable girl. I hated killing women. I tried to tell myself that this explained my behavior. But it was something more. I wanted to protect her.

What the devil was wrong with me?


	3. 2 PRESCIENT

2

**2. PRESCIENT**

I…lurked. That was the only explanation for my behavior. I tried to convinced myself that I was hunting her, and when that didn't work, that I was keeping tabs on her. Protecting others from her. But I was doing neither. I wanted to watch her. I wanted to see what she would do. I wanted to find out who she was. So I skulked behind her. I lurked. I stalked her. I was already a monster, so I simply added stalking to my list of sins.

She left the hospital, wearing a baggy white shirt tucked into beige pants, suspenders over top, holding the too loose trousers up. She'd rolled the cuffs of the pants so they would not drag on the ground. The shoes that she wore were too big as well, forcing her to walk awkwardly. She pulled, the jacket, _my _jacket, tightly around herself, but it seemed she was simply covering the ill fitting clothes. She did not look cold at all, though she should be.

She glanced around nervously, unsure of which way to go. Her eyes were amazing, not quite the same shade as Susan's eyes, but a piercing green, a green that reminded me faintly of the rolling hills of Mayo, where I'd met Danny. And her face was beautiful too. The dirt that had smeared it was gone, and her skin was pale and soft and lovely, freckled as Susan's had been when she was alive. I had to force myself not to think about caressing that skin, placing my stone hand against its incredible warmth. There was something severe about her features, her chin well defined, her cheek bones prominent, her green eyes too bright, too intense. Her lips were very full, very red, and the paleness of her skin, the green of her eyes, did not match her coffee colored hair, its true color flashing where it was clean, though it was still dirty and matted in many places. I very much wanted to wash her hair, to run my fingers through it, until its true color emerged. Ugh, what was I thinking? I banished the thought immediately.

She looked nervous and fearful, but she did not look helpless. Not dangerous, either, just as though she could handle herself. Perhaps I was simply projecting my knowledge about her other form upon her. After all, I'd felt a strange instinct to save her before, and I wanted very much now to make sure that she would be alright. And I didn't want to kill her. Not at all. Maybe she was helpless. Although the medic did not seem to think so.

She looked about her, unable to decide which way to go, and then turned left. Towards the Vistula. She had good instincts. Or perhaps it was her excellent sense of smell.

I moved from building to building, avoiding the sunlight, staying in the shadows, fifty yards behind her. I tried to concentrate on the human scent that attracted me instead of the dog scent, an undesirable scent. I was a fool. I should be concentrating on the undesirable scent. Had I gone so far in my self loathing that my own mind was fixating on the very things I could never have?

She glanced around furtively as she walked, and eyed every passerby warily. And she constantly looked behind her. On occasion, she stared at the exact building from which I stared at her. Did she know I was following her? Could she smell me, as she had in the alley? But this was not the most pressing question, though it should have been. Yet all I could really think about was this: was my smell revolting? Did she not want to smell me? Did I want her to enjoy my smell? I shuddered as the questions, the insecurities, raced through my mind.

She reached the Vistula, and beheld the true destruction of Warsaw, the old city on the west bank of the river, buildings thousands of years old, wiped out, gutted and crumbling. A soft breeze from the north crept down the river, shifting her hair, and I glimpsed the side of her face, saw her deep set frown. She looked left and right, but only boats crossed the river, the bridges all destroyed. She saw signs of life to the north, a few humans entering a building, and she moved towards them. I followed cautiously, afraid that she knew I was there.

I could not read the sign, but I thought it was an inn, from the two males who entered and the other male who left. She stood outside, staring at the door, for what seemed an eternity. Would she go in? Why did she hesitate? I wanted to know her very badly in that instant. She sighed, squared her shoulders, and pulled open the door.

The smell of alcohol, of unclean human males, of nearly rancid food, wafted outward, causing me to crinkle my face. This was no place for her, I decided. But why not? Perhaps this was exactly the place for her.

It was almost as though there were two people inside of me. The first desperately wanted to know more about this girl. I had never been more curious about one of the opposite sex since I'd met Mary. I twinged at the thought, at the memory of my old life. The other part of me, the more rational part, could not understand the curiosity, the need to know her.

_I need to know if she is evil_. I said to myself. _I need to know if she is as innocent as she seems, or if she is still the monster. So I can kill her_.

Satisfying the more rational side of my being, I approached the tavern, and entered.

Her body jerked as soon as I closed the door behind me. She sat at a table by herself. A clear liquid was in front of her, and her back was to me, but her body was straight, uncomfortably so.

I moved to a corner of the bar, away from her, and watched her surreptitiously. A fat, burly, unshaven man approached her, sitting across from her. He was not drunk, but he was not sober either.

He spoke to her loudly, in Polish. She shook her head but said nothing. He yelled to the bartender, who looked at him gravely. The fat man yelled again, and the bartender nodded.

He moved towards the table, two drinks in his hand. The fat man nodded, and then spoke to the girl again. Her body was not straight, as it had been when I'd entered: she hunched her shoulders and hugged her arms to her body, as if hoping to keep him, to keep everyone, out.

He spoke to her again, and pushed the drink, vodka, towards her. She shook her head again, and he laughed loudly. He made a leering gesture, and then he reached out, across the table, and gripped her arm.

And before I even had a thought, I was moving. But she was just as fast as I was. I saw her twist her arm and grip his forearm, heard his radius and ulna crack. And then I had him in my grip and we were out of the bar. I snapped his neck, and didn't even bother to drain him. I tossed his body into the river, and was back at the corner of the bar. The bartender and patrons looked around in confusion. They'd heard a short scream, and then the fat man was gone. I tried to force my face to mask their confusion.

The girl sat as she had before, arms clutching her body. But she'd straightened again as I'd entered. She finally moved, her head turning towards the bar. She looked at me, peered into my eyes, and shuddered.

Should I go to her? Talk to her? She seemed to fear me. But I had to know if she knew what she was. Much easier to kill her if she controlled the beast that killed Danny. I had no other reason to approach her. I told myself that again and again, and then I left the bar, and stood above her.

"May I join you?"I asked, in French of course, as pleasantly as possible.

She sniffed the air around her, and her face looked tortured. Then she breathed deeply through her mouth.

I waited for what seemed an eternity. She simply stared up at me. I would not move unless she allowed it.

She nodded, very slowly.

I was in the chair next to her in a heartbeat, far too fast. I somehow felt that I didn't need to be as conscience of my superhuman speed around her.

"Thank you," she whispered, and her eyes looked into mine again, tentatively.

"For what?" I asked, trying to be casual.

"Getting rid of him," she nodded toward the chair where the fat man had sat. So she'd noticed. Her reflexes were impressive. "And for yesterday," she continued, and clutched the coat I'd given her, hugging it close.

"You're welcome," I said simply. I wanted to know about her, no reason to give anything away.

But she saw through that pretext immediately. "What are you?" she asked cautiously, still not looking at me.

"My name is Garrett," I responded, ignoring the implications of her question.

"I remember," she spoke softly. I was surprised, in her condition, with the blow to her head, that she'd remembered my name.

"And you are?" I prompted when she said no more.

"Sabine," she whispered, as if giving it away somehow gave me an advantage.

"How do you feel?" I suddenly remembered her wounds, her trauma. I should not have been so inconsiderate. It should have been the first thing I asked. "Can I get you anything? A drink? Some food?"

I had to wait again for her to respond. She finally looked into my eyes, and then asked, tentatively, "Do you think they have wine?"

I didn't bother to ask the bartender, didn't know enough Polish anyway, and I simply went behind the bar, and then stood in front of him with wine, a glass, and more than enough rubles. I put them in front of him, he nodded, and then I returned to the table and poured her a glass. It was red, but I knew not what kind. I did not drink wine as a human, and it smelled as bad as anything else as a vampire.

"Don't you want some?" Sabine asked. I shook my head and pushed the glass towards her. She picked it up and sniffed it, crinkled her nose, and took a drink. She grimaced. So, she was sophisticated. I should have allowed her a taste and a smell before I poured her a full glass. I had not done this, not ever. I hoped I knew how to treat a lady, but I was not so sure. It seemed much easier in theory than in practice.

"It was all they had," I said softly. She looked at me again, and there was thankfulness in her green eyes, as well as guilt at her own reaction.

"You are…American?" she asked after another sip.

"From Philadelphia," I nodded, not sure why I wanted to give her this extra information. "How did you know?"

"I met many American soldiers during the war, saw how they carried themselves, heard their accent when they spoke French. Rather, tried to speak French. You seem very American. Though your French is good. Most Americans did not bother." It was by far the longest sentence she'd spoken in my presence. And it revealed a great deal about herself. I was surprised. She looked no older than twenty now. Which made her sixteen when the Americans got to France. Not that young, I supposed

"Yes," I said quietly, "That's why I'm here. I never left after the war."

Sabine looked at me, curiously. "But the Russians are in Poland. This is a dangerous place for an American soldier." I didn't want to answer questions about myself. Actually, I did, but I wanted to know more about her first.

"A dangerous place for a young French girl as well," I said. If she wanted something from me, I'd have to get something from her.

"Not so dangerous as others," she shrugged, and then stared into her wine glass.

"Really?" I mused. The peasants here were more likely to believe in werewolves than the French. She was probably in more danger here. If that was what she meant. If she even knew. And, of course, I was here as well. Ready to kill her if I had to. This was a very dangerous place for her.

"But you never answered…" she stopped, and drained the rest of her wine in a gulp. I refilled it automatically, and waited. She looked up at me, tentative again.

"What are you?" Sabine asked again.

"Exactly what I said. An American from Philadelphia who fought in the war, then travelled here." It was not a lie. Just an omission.

"You're more than that. You smell…strange. I smelled you, following me here. There is a reason that you want to talk to me. And I saw what you did to that man." So she'd seen all of that? Remarkable.

"You're asking the wrong question," I replied, trying to steer the conversation back to where I wanted it.

"Why is that?" she asked softly, and took another sip of wine before returning her eyes to mine.

"Actually, it's the right question. You're just asking the wrong person." I did not elaborate.

"Who should I ask then?" her voice was full of reticence.

"Yourself," I whispered, but she heard me clearly. And her face was tortured again.


	4. 3 VULNERABLE

Author's Note: Part of the reason I'm writing this story is to flex my writing muscles when it comes to the romantic stuff that I will inevitably address in Forever Night

_Author's Note: Part of the reason I'm writing this story is to flex my writing muscles when it comes to the romantic stuff that I will inevitably address in Forever Night. I love plotting and cliffhangers. Romance, however, is not my forte (though it probably should be if I want __Twilight__ fans to read my stories). That is why the Garrett/Susan relationship in Forever Night involved a courtship of exactly one chapter. This story has a plot, obviously, but I'm also using it as training for the end of Forever Night. Though I love writing this story, too._

**3. VULNERABLE **

She stared at me blankly, her eyes full of questions.

I reached across the table without thinking, and gripped her hand in mine. Her skin was so warm it felt like it was burning. Warmer than any human skin I'd ever touched.

She jerked her hand away from mine. Her face looked…horrified. And then she was moving, standing from the table and walking briskly out the door.

"Sabine," I whispered as she left me. Why had I done that? I should never have touched her. I shouldn't want to touch her. But for some reason, I did. I wanted very much to touch her again, to keep talking to her, to find out everything about her, and not just her secrets about her more dangerous side. There was something very wrong with me.

I followed Sabine out the door, ignoring the curious glances of the bartender and the other patrons, and I was out in the cold, though my breath made no mist. She was not visible on the street, so I caught her scent and followed.

She was fast in her human form. I tracked her for over a mile before I caught up with her, still running, seemingly at random, as if she had no idea where she was going. Which she probably didn't. I was close behind her now, but I didn't know the best way to approach. She answered that question for me when she stopped short in the middle of the street, sniffing the air again. Ah, yes, she was as aware of me as I was of her. Only my scent sickened her, my very presence agitated her. I should have felt the same way about her, but for some strange reason I did not.

Still, she was in the middle of the street and in broad daylight. I could not approach her, I decided, as I noticed the odd pedestrian passing her. She waited for a moment, and I hugged the shadows below the wall of a destroyed building. She turned and stared at me. I was visible, though I was not in the sun. And her face curled in…anger? I could not tell. And then she marched straight towards me.

"Why do you keep following me?" Sabine demanded, her face still furious. I tried to think of an appropriate response.

"You…seem lost," I said, trying to be honest without giving anything away.

"And you seem far too interested in someone you only just met. And I think there's something wrong with you. And I know there's something wrong with me. So maybe you should stay away." She did not yell, but her voice, and her face, were vehement.

"I can't," I responded, too quickly, before I could stop myself.

"Try," she suggested, and spun from me. I could not stop myself from reaching out and grabbing her arm, either. What the devil was the point of having a vampire mind if it couldn't stop my body and my mouth from doing and saying things that they shouldn't?

Sabine whipped her head around, her greasy and dirty hair like tendrils as it flew across her face. "Get your hand off of me. Now." I released her immediately, and then I surprised myself again.

"Can I buy you something to eat?" What, now I wanted to go out on a date with her? Good Lord, Garrett, are you going to ask her if she wants to take in a movie as well? The thought crept up on me despite my best efforts, the idea of being in a darkened theater with her. I pushed the image away. She was evil. She'd killed Danny. I had to kill her. I repeated it over and over again.

Sabine looked as confused as I felt. I tried to mask the request, though I very much wanted to take her somewhere for food. But I could not let her know that.

"Or, could I give you some money? You look very hungry, and I know from yesterday that you have nothing."

She shook her head. "I told you, stay away from me," she said quietly, and then she walked away. I pulled back, further into the shadows. I didn't know what I should do next.

I had to find out more about her. If Sabine knew she was a werewolf, then I could kill her in her human form. But if she didn't, then the task would be much harder. I should be willing to kill her, not just because of what she was, but because of what I was. How many people had I killed already? I'd lost count, but I knew it was thousands. There should be no issue for me in killing a very dangerous human woman. And if I waited for her monster to return, then I was killing more than just one human.

But my mind wavered, picturing her in the alley, naked and helpless, her green eyes piercing me, green eyes that were too familiar to the ones that had pierced my soul when I'd still had one. She seemed so innocent when I thought of her that way. She was not dangerous. She couldn't be. Nothing dangerous could ever wear the expression she'd worn when I'd first found her.

I waited, as long as I could, and then followed at a slow, human pace, tucking my jacket around me and pulling the cap I'd stolen out of my pocket and over my head. It was cold out. I supposed I looked normal.

Sabine returned to the river, and I lost her scent at one of the boats that were ferrying people across. Good, the medic had at least given her some money. I paid the ferryman without a word, and then paced the west bank of the river until I found her unappealing scent again.

We'd landed in Old Town, still mostly destroyed from the war, and she'd moved north to New Town. It wasn't in much better condition, but it was more livable, and there were a few businesses in operation. Sabine had meandered through the streets, and I had no idea what she was seeking. She'd managed to find the New Town Market Square at the end of Freta Street, mostly destroyed like the rest of the city, and she'd lingered at a few of the food stalls. So I was not surprised when I followed her scent into yet another alley, and found her crouched protectively over stolen vegetables, devouring them as fast as she could. She was so absorbed that she did not notice me until I spoke.

"Please, let me buy you something. That hardly smells appetizing." Truly, it didn't.

She shot up from her crouch and came towards me, once again full of anger. "Was I unclear? Did I not make myself understood? Stay away from me!" She gripped the food to her body and marched out of the alley.

And straight into the shouts of an angry Polish woman.

I had no idea what the woman was saying, but she shouted loudly and pointed at Sabine, and others in the square took notice. Sabine dropped the vegetables immediately, but it was too late. A policeman, a hundred yards away, looked up from his conversation at the scene, and began moving towards her.

It was the same as the bar. I was moving before I could stop myself. One moment, I was in the alley behind her, and the next I gripped her arms and pulled her with me, out of the square. I wasn't surprised when she was able to match a pace that was far too fast for a human and I didn't have to carry her. I was just glad that night was falling, and I did not have to cover myself. I pulled up, when I saw an open stall that smelled of cooked meat, paid quickly for what appeared to be sausages, and led her into the Royal Baths Park in Old Town, better preserved than other areas of the city. I sat her on a bench overlooking a small pond, and handed her the sausages wrapped in paper.

Sabine looked at me once, and then she began to eat. If she had devoured the vegetables before, she was positively ravenous at the smell of cooked meat.

I watched her eat. I wanted very much to see the werewolf in her, and in this moment she was probably closest to her other form, but I could only feel sorry for her. How long had it been since she'd eaten anything, much less something she'd enjoyed? Or at least, something she'd enjoyed as a human. She'd probably enjoyed a lot of meals as a werewolf. I wondered if Danny tasted good to her. That was a good way to think. Concentrate on her as the werewolf, and not as the human. The very lovely and appealing human. More appealing to me than anyone in half a century. No, I had to think of the wolf. The extremely deadly wolf.

Sabine finished the meal in moments, and then she looked up at me, embarrassed, as she wiped the signs of her meal from her mouth. The look was so attractive, it rocked me away from my forced thoughts of her as a werewolf, and once again the human, and male, desires overcame me. I shuddered and looked away.

"Thank you. Again," she said quietly, and I looked back at her. She looked so vulnerable, and my overwhelming desire to protect her once again overcame me. She did not need protection. She'd broken a man's wrist with but a flick of her own. She was a werewolf, for God's sake. People needed protection from her, not the other way around.

"So, you know," she started, and then she looked at the ground, unwilling to continue.

"Yes?" I asked, wondering where she was going.

"You know that there is something wrong with me?" It was a question instead of statement.

"Yes," I replied, and it was not a question.

"Every month I…lose myself. I go to sleep, and I wake up somewhere else. I'm naked and alone." She looked at me again. Her face was hopeful. And strangely enough, there was some trust in her eyes as well. I suddenly realized that what she'd just told me was something she had never revealed to anyone else. And she didn't know what she was. I tried to decide if I could kill her even if she was unaware, but I already knew the answer.

"Do you know why?" she asked tentatively

"I do, but I don't think you want to hear it," I said.

"And you're…different as well?" she inquired. Still curious.

"I'm different, but not the way that you are." I didn't want to talk about myself. Even this monster could not understand, could not bear, the monster that I was.

Sabine waited impatiently, and when I said no more, she decided to voice her observations.

"You look different. You smell different. You feel different. Too cold. You move too fast. I move faster than anyone I know, but you're faster than me. And there was something wrong with your skin, before, in the sun." She stopped, and looked at me expectantly.

"Yes, we're both different. We should leave it at that."

"Then why do you follow me, if you don't want to tell me what's wrong with me? Why do you keep helping me?"

"Because I always do the wrong thing," I said simply.

"Helping me is wrong?" she asked.

"More wrong than you could possibly know," I replied. Suddenly, I very much wanted this conversation to end. Everything about what I was doing was wrong. I hadn't looked at her, and I tried to keep my eyes averted. I stood up from the bench, and felt her hot fingers as she gripped my hand.

Her face was so full of fear that it nearly broke my will. But I had to be strong. I could be strong. What was another human life to a mass murderer?

I pulled my hand away from her.

"Garrett," she whispered.

I did what I had to do. I walked away from her.

"Help me," Sabine murmured. I looked back at her, arms clutching her knees to her body, rocking back and forth. Just as she had in the alley. I wavered.

"'This bad begins and worse remains behind,'" I sighed.

Hamlet often did the wrong thing.

I always did the wrong thing. No reason to stop now.


	5. 4 EXPOSITION

Author's Note # 1: The immense amount of dialogue in this chapter is translated from French

_Author's Note # 1: The immense amount of dialogue in this chapter is translated from French. Unless otherwise indicated, all the dialogue in this story is translated from French. If I use words that don't exist in the French language, it's because I'd rather the writing be good in English than accurately reflect the French language._

_Author's Note #2: This chapter contains an immense amount of exposition, thus the title. It felt natural for the story, but if it comes off annoying I apologize. Sometimes, you just have to get it on the table, like Chapter 9, Theory, of __Twilight__. Also, similarities to (and a pot shot at) __Midnight Sun__, as well as the __Angel__ season five episode "Unleashed", are deliberate._

**4. EXPOSITION**

"I don't know how to start," Sabine said, and looked up at me.

I'd rented her a room for the night. It cost almost nothing, and with good reason. The hotel was in shambles, much of it uninhabitable. It did have running water, though I knew that hot water was out of the question. The only reason I took the room was that the radiator worked. The mist from her breath made me realize how cold the night air had become, though she did not shiver. I had no idea why.

She gave me a strange look when I requested only a single room, but she did not protest. However, as soon as I'd shut the door behind us she once again proceeded to question me about my scent, my cool skin and strange eyes, and the frightening speed with which I'd dispatched the fat man at the bar. I did not reply, but indicated that she sit on the bed, the only piece of furniture in the room besides a small table and chair. At least there was a light. She sat and crossed her arms, and I told her that it was important that I know more about her first.

"Why don't we go to the beginning, then," I started. "You're from France-"

"No!" she said hotly, cutting me off. "I'm Belgian."

"Sorry?" I was confused.

Annoyance crossed her face again. "I'm from Wallonia, in Belgium. We speak French there. Flemish Belgians speak Dutch." Her annoyance became indignance. "Did you think that Belgians all spoke some mythical Belgian language? Americans, never bothering to learn about anyone else. Let me guess, you were under the impression that everyone in Switzerland spoke a language called Swiss. Did you even bother to meet a single person that you were so gloriously liberating?"

Sabine continued like that for awhile, and I simply stared at her as I leaned lazily against the wall, amused. She was right, I'd never spoken to a single Belgian the entire time the 82nd was deployed there during the Battle of the Bulge. Danny and I had other things on our minds. Like wiping out Germans and destroying tanks.

"Actually, they speak four languages in Switzerland," I finally cut her off. "And people in some parts of Belgium speak German. But you're right, I never bothered to meet any Belgians when I fought there."

Surprise crossed her face. She had not paid any attention to me during her tirade, but she looked up at me now, still annoyed, her arms still crossed over her chest. "Could you please sit down? You're making me nervous."

I complied, taking the wooden chair and sitting across from her. I had to remember that I could not be so still, that humans became easily uncomfortable with my vampiric tendencies. I had to keep breathing, blink, all those things that humans did naturally. I hadn't spent time with humans in four years, beyond the ones I'd killed. Not that I was spending time with a human now. I smiled, hoping to allay her unease. It didn't seem to work, so I spoke again.

"Very well," I said, and couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes, "you're from Belgium. Please, continue." I waved my hand in front of her, hoping she would comply.

She gave me a dirty look, but kept going. "I'm from Dinant-"

This time it was I who interrupted, with a short laugh.

"What?" she asked, irritated again.

"It's nothing. My division went through there during the war. Lovely town. It had that church, sitting over the Meuse. And that fort on top of the cliff. Wanted to go up top, but I never got the chance. We might have even met, had I bothered to meet any Belgians, as you pointed out." I guessed it really wasn't that funny, come to think of it.

"The citadel. Yes, my home is quite nice. We seem to have established your lack of appreciation for Walloon culture. Do you mind if I go on, or did you simply want to tell the story?" Sabine raised her eyebrows, and I nodded. But I couldn't help but smirk. I liked this girl: she wasn't afraid of me at all. She was feisty. Yes, that was a good word for her temperament. Very refreshing.

"I was thirteen when the Germans came. Our town lost a tenth of its population when the Germans attacked in 1914. My father's uncle was one of the people who died. We didn't take any chances the second time. The whole town was evacuated. My parents ran a small bakery, for the tourists who came to see Notre Dame and the citadel. Notre Dame is the name of the cathedral, in case you haven't guessed."

Sabine shot me a contemptuous look, and my smirk became a smile. Too wide a smile. Her face went pale at the sight of my teeth, and she turned away.

"We fled south, along the Meuse, not realizing that we were in direct line with the German advance. They moved so fast though the country that Dinant, the whole area, was captured in less than a week. It only took a few weeks before the whole country surrendered. The Germans did not mistreat us at all. They were too interested in moving on to France.

"The Germans moved us back from their front line on the river. To a town called Rochefort, on the edge of the Ardennes. We returned to Dinant once the country surrendered and the Germans solidified their hold. For the most part, it was rather peaceful. The Germans were so fast, defeated our army and the French so quickly, that the town, the whole country, was relatively untouched. We could move about freely, during the daytime, as long as we weren't Jewish. They disappeared pretty quickly." She grimaced at the thought. I couldn't blame her.

"Belgium was occupied for four years when it…happened." Her grimace became worse, as if she was actually in pain. "I'd walked up to the citadel, and was hiking nearby. I like to walk. At least I used to. I'd started out late that day, and it was already dark when I made my way back to town. I was near the edge of the woods, almost back to the citadel. I was so worried that I might get caught being out after dark by the Germans stationed there, or that my parents would reprimand me, that I wasn't paying attention, and I slipped on a wet rock and twisted my ankle. That was when it bit me." She shuddered as she said the last.

I realized that I was leaning forward, my face only a foot away from hers. She stared at her hands for a long time, and then looked into my eyes. I expected her to flinch, but she didn't. Sabine's eyes were such a lovely shade of green. We stared at each other for a long time, until she finally blinked. I realized I'd forgotten to.

"I didn't see it. I heard it bark behind me, and tried to run, but my ankle hurt too much, and I fell again. I could see the citadel when I looked up, could see a man pacing along it. He heard the bark too, and was coming towards me. Whatever it was, it bit my calf."

Sabine stopped, and pulled her leg onto the bed, crossing it over the other. Then she pulled up the pant leg, and showed me four sets of teeth marks, two on each side, with five individual marks in each set.

"It never goes away. Four years, and the scar won't heal. I had scars, from before it happened, where I broke my arm as a child. Even that disappeared, after it bit me, though it was there for almost a decade. This scar won't go away."

"Neither will the scar on your shoulder," I said quietly, without thinking. Her face jerked up from her leg to stare at me again. She was about to respond, but I didn't let her. "What happened then? After it bit you?"

She wanted to ask me more, but my question threw her off. "I…the man was a German soldier. He shouted at us, and the animal left. I turned to look at it, but I only caught a glimpse of flesh before it was in the trees. When the soldier saw the bite and my twisted ankle, he took me to the doctor. The doctor didn't know what the bite was from, and he gave me a rabies shot and wrapped my ankle before sending me home."

"But that wasn't the end of it," I continued for her.

"No, at first it was good things. My ankle healed quickly, in less than a day. And my senses got better. I could see better, for over a mile, and I didn't need glasses anymore when I read. I could hear conversations across the street, inside homes with closed doors. Smells became much more distinctive. I could taste the air, could taste every nuance of flavor in a meal. And I was stronger, much stronger. I lifted things with ease that would have been a struggle before. Sharp ends and other objects that would have cut me I could barely feel. Cold and heat didn't affect my body, no longer made me uncomfortable." She'd smiled when she'd begun, but it became a frown as she went on.

"Then it became weird," Sabine went on with a sigh. "I craved meat. Soon it was all I could eat. And I couldn't stand it if it was cooked too much. I barely let my mother cook it before I wanted to eat it, and then I insisted on cooking it myself, eating it almost raw. I ate so much of it that I when through all of our meat ration, and my parents had to live on other things. The smell of it was so enticing that on a few occasions I tried to steal other people's meals. I couldn't stop myself. My parents began to worry. I was two fast, my reflexes too good, impossibly good. And then the healing. I cut myself with a knife by accident. The wound healed completely by the time I woke up. Bruises disappeared within an hour. And I was too strong, stronger than my father, stronger than anyone in town. And then, a month after the attack, I disappeared.

"I was in my room one moment, and the next moment I was lying naked by the river. Someone found me and raised the alarm. The entire town was looking for me. And one of the searchers had been killed. No one knew what had killed him. My mother had entered my room the night before, only to find my window smashed, my sheets shredded, and me gone. The doctor could find nothing wrong with me. But it happened again the next night, and the night after. The third night, I stayed I the doctor's office, but the door was smashed open and I disappeared. The fourth night, my mother stayed with me. I didn't disappear. I slept normally, once I could sleep. But no one in the town would come near me after that. They'd seen the sky, seen the full moon, seen the movies. They didn't believe it, but they knew something strange was happening."

She looked so sad, I had an intense desire to reach out to her, to go to the bed and cradle her in my arms, make the sadness go away. And so tired as well.

"When it happened again the next month, my parents locked me in the cellar after the first night. I protested, screamed at them, but they said it was for the best. They refused to be in the cellar with me, to see what was happening to me. I didn't disappear, but I'd ripped all of my clothes apart. My parents weren't superstitious, and they thought I had some strange disease. They sent me to a hospital in Namur, and the doctors checked my blood, my reflexes, my strength. They couldn't explain any of it. There was nothing irregular about my blood, they could find no sign of a virus. They sent me home. And my parents took to locking me in the basement during the full moon."

Sabine shivered when she spoke of them locking her in the basement. I couldn't blame her. Though her parents were right to do so.

"This continued for a year, before they started talking about sending me away, to an institution. I was insane. That was why this kept happening. My insanity was the reason for my disappearances, for my strange compunctions. It somehow explained my strength, and my healing. Am I insane?" she asked abruptly.

I was so caught up in her story that I was caught off guard completely. "No, Sabine." For some reason I enjoyed saying her name out loud. I liked the way it sounded. "You're not insane," I replied quickly.

"Am I a…?" she couldn't bring herself to say any more.

I nodded, and her eyes tightened.

"So I left," she continued, as if I had not just told her something impossible, something that no human could believe. "I didn't want to go to an institution, so I started east and didn't look back. I was one of millions of beggars in Germany, and I'm one of millions of homeless here in Poland. I get in the bread lines, I sleep in shelters where I can find them. And three days of the month, I lose myself, and I wake up naked somewhere completely different. Usually in a field, unless it's raining, and then a barn or under a tree. Sometimes, there's blood on me. I've been arrested eight times. I've stolen more food and clothing from other poor people than anyone ever should."

Sabine began to cry as she continued speaking, and the tears rolled freely down her cheeks. I reached out, unthinking, and wiped a tear away. She started at my touch, at my cold skin. She was so tired, so depressed, so broken.

"Garrett, are you a…" she hesitated. "Are you a werewolf too?" I could tell the word was painful for her to say aloud.

"No. I'm much worse," I said simply.

"I've never told anyone what I told you. It feels good to say it aloud." She was yawning as she said this. At least she wasn't crying anymore. There were few things more painful to me than watching a woman cry. And I'd known a great deal of pain.

"You should get some sleep." Before she could protest, I stood up, pulled her from the bed, and turned it down. I guided her under the covers, pulling them to her shoulder. She gripped them tightly around herself.

"We'll talk in the morning," I whispered.

"Where will you sleep?" she asked.

"I have my own…accommodations," I replied.

"Will you be here? When I wake up?" Her tone was desperate.

"I can't seem to stop myself." I tried to make it a joke, but it sounded hollow.

I turned out the lights. I stood for a moment, staring at her. She wasn't delicate or fragile. She was more than capable of taking care of herself; she'd done so for three years, even when she wasn't a werewolf. But she needed help, despite her capabilities. Could I help her? I didn't know how, but I very much wanted to try.

Sabine opened her eyes, and stared straight at me. "I can smell you and I can see you. Why are you standing there? It's creepy."

I laughed out loud, again, and smiled widely, then left her. It was creepy. I was creepy. No more of that. I was a scary enough monster already.


	6. 5 EXAMINATION

5

**5. EXAMINATION **

"'O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain!'" I said quietly, and Sabine's face contorted in confusion.

"I told you that my English wasn't very good," she muttered. I hadn't even realized what language I was speaking.

"My, my, you Belgians and your ignorance of our wonderful language. You should really be more open-minded," I teased, trying to emulate her admonishment of me.

She scowled at me over her cup of tea, and took another quiet sip, waiting patiently for me to say something more. I refused to comply. I couldn't stop the events of this morning from replaying in my head.

XXX

"I don't need another towel!" I heard Sabine exclaim as she yanked the door to her room open.

I couldn't stop the shock from crossing my face.

Her hair was clean and still wet. She wore nothing but a towel, wrapped tightly around her body. But I could see the shape of her body, her legs and most of her breasts, quite clearly. As in the alley when I first met her, the human, the masculine, desires fired through me in a way that hadn't happened since Susan. I knew that my desire flashed across my face, and tried to contain it.

At first she looked pleased, even relieved, to see me. And then her face was filled with the same embarrassment that I felt, and her hand moved immediately to the towel, tugging it upward. Which didn't really help matters. At all.

"I don't know what you did," she finally said, breaking the tension, "but thank you."

"I'm sorry? I don't know what you mean."

"When I woke up this morning, the clerk of the hotel knocked on my door and asked me what I needed. I told him I needed a bath, and within ten minutes, the entire staff was heating water to fill a tub and bringing back as much soap as they could find from the market. When I retuned to the room, I found a new jacket, new blouse and skirt and a pair of shoes waiting for me. They have to be the only new clothes in this entire city. I can only assume that was your doing." She smiled at me brightly.

"Nonsense. I think it's your winning personality. You're just so nice that no one can deny you," I couldn't help but smirk.

She rolled her eyes at me.

I'd only given the clerk whatever rubles I could muster and asked him to take care of her. How was I to know that would entail such service?

"Would you wait for me downstairs?" she asked. She tried to make her tone dismissive, but I sensed an air of worry as well.

"Of course," I replied. "Please, take as much time as you need. You'll find I'm very patient, once you get to know me." I grinned, and disappeared before she could say anything else. My proximity to her exposed body was bringing out all of the wrong thoughts and desires, the ones I needed to avoid.

Despite myself, I was elated when she met me in the lobby. She had eschewed the new jacket, which she held in her arm, for the one I'd given her.

"Would you like to get some tea? I don't trust anyone in Europe to make coffee. Except the Italians." I hoped my offer was simply pleasant.

"That would be nice," she said, and I turned and held the door for her. I motioned down the street, and fought off another wave of pleasure when she wrapped her arm with mine.

I tried very hard to concentrate on the dog-like aspects of her scent and not the warmth of her arm on mine as I led her to the café.

XXX

"I think we have a few more things to discuss," she said, after a long moment of silence.

"Oh? And what might that be?" I knew exactly what she wanted, but I wasn't quite ready to divulge my secrets. It was horribly selfish of me. I could hardly imagine the self-loathing she was feeling. I could make her feel like less of a monster. Only I did not want her to consider me a monster as well.

She sighed, annoyed. "I want to know more about me. About what I am. And I want to know about you. What you are. But you already knew that."

"I've already told you what you are." Best to keep the focus on her for as long as I could.

"But what does it mean?" Sabine's look was frightened now instead of annoyed.

"You already know the basics. Three nights a week, during the full moon, you…are not yourself."

"No," she whispered. "No, I'm not. Did I kill that man, the first night? Am I a murderer?"

"You are most certainly not a murderer. But yes, the beast inside of you probably killed that man. And it's probably killed others." I knew this would cause her pain, but I could see no way around it. It was most certainly the truth, as I could attest first hand.

She didn't say anything, and after a moment, a tear ran down her cheek. I longed to reach out and wipe it away, but that was a mistake the night before, a mistake I would not make again.

"What is it that I become?" she finally asked.

"A monster. A rather vicious one. A highly skilled predator. Near the top of the evolutionary scale. You become a hunter the likes of which the world has rarely seen, stronger and faster and smarter and deadlier than any other creature on the planet." With one exception, I withheld.

"Are you here to kill me, then. Is that what you are? A demon hunter?" She refused to take her eyes from the table, which made her expression hard to read. And I so enjoyed looking at those eyes.

"I am much worse than that, but you aren't far off about my intentions." I needed to be honest. She needed to know the danger that I posed to her. "I have been hunting for one like your monster for nearly thirty years. We call your beastly side Children of the Moon. And your particular beast killed a very dear friend of mine."

She rose from the table immediately, and turned away, moving with impossible quickness to the café door before I could finally catch her. I gripped her arm tightly, and she tried to shake my hand away. She was so strong that she nearly succeeded.

Her face was full of tears when she looked at me. "Kill me then!" she shouted, and the proprietor stared at us in confusion.

"I can't," I said, in a low tone. "That's the problem."

"Then tell me everything. Why can't you? What do you want from me?"

"I don't know." It was the only response I had.

She looked at me again, her face hardening. And then she slapped me. Her strength was so great that I actually felt the blow, and I released her. She left the cafe. I couldn't stop myself from following.

"Sabine, please," I begged as I caught up with her. She was heading back towards the Vistula.

"Either kill me or leave me alone if you don't want to tell me the truth,' she said, refusing to look at me. I grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alley, ignoring her protestations.

"What the hell do you want from me?" she finally shouted, and I saw a pedestrian across the street look at us curiously. I pulled her further into the shadows, and pushed her against the alley wall, so that we stood only inches apart.

"I'm a vampire! I drink human blood to live. I'm stronger and faster than anything you've ever met. I'm a mass murderer the likes of which you cannot comprehend. Your beast is my only natural enemy on this earth, besides others such as myself. I wanted very much to kill you when I found you in that alley, because you killed my best friend only hours before. But I couldn't because I do not believe that you and that beast are the same." I exhaled as the last of my revelation escaped me. I felt better and much worse at the same time.

"But why!" she exclaimed.

"Because I want to be different. I'm trying very hard not to be the creature that I am." I could hardly believe how honest I was. Which made her reaction that much more painful.

"So what, you're a vampire with a heart? A vampire with a soul? I don't know what the hell you really are, or what game you are playing, but stay the hell away from me. I survived on my own for three years. I don't need your help. Not if all you really want to do is kill me. So you might as well get along with that. Otherwise, don't speak to me again."

She waited for me to release her, and marched out of the alley as soon as I did.

I did not follow. She had it right. I was a killer. A part of me had wanted her dead, though that part was gone. A part of me was still revolted by the monster inside of her, though nowhere near as revolted as I was by the monster that was me, body and soul, if I had soul at all.

XXX

I crouched atop one of the many ruined buildings of the broken city, staring into the night.

How had I managed to ruin everything so magnificently? I thought that my intentions were good, even if my reasons were faulty at best. Yet I had probably done more to hurt Sabine in a day's time than she'd been hurt in years. She was right. If she could survive for three years as she was, then what I had done to her could only make it worse. She'd seemed so desperate in the alley, and on the park bench. But I'd only increased her suffering. I could not help her. I couldn't even help myself.

I'd fought the overwhelming urge to follow her all day. I hadn't moved since she'd left me and I'd found this spot, overlooking the Vistula. I had not breathed or blinked, had not shifted a muscle. I'd simply tormented myself with my thoughts. I was very accomplished at that.

Thus I didn't catch the scent of the new vampire until he was upon me.

I saw the grey hooded figure move silently down the street and knew the movement was unnatural. I launched myself from my perch, clearing a city block. I had to find Sabine's scent before he did.

The vampire waited for me when I reached the street. He was enormous, and I knew my strength could never match his.

"Tell me where it is," the vampire said. "Or not. I really don't mind killing you." I saw the smile beneath the cloak.


End file.
